


All These Woes

by oceans_and_lovers



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I tried to write all the angst requested, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mission Fic, Poor Gaby guys she doesn't have a good time here, Rescue Missions, Unplanned Pregnancy, as it turns out i can only write one decent gallya plot, i think??, it's not plagiarism if you copy off yourself accidentally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 11:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceans_and_lovers/pseuds/oceans_and_lovers
Summary: “It’s odd for you, isn’t it, hanging off my arm instead of Peril’s?”Seeing his smirk, Gaby rolled her eyes, and Solo continued, saying, “It’s like his eyes were burning into my back when we left, honey, I swear.”-Posing as newlyweds, Solo and Gaby go to a casino to intercept the exchange of an important briefcase, but the mission doesn't go to plan, which is all the worse for Gaby, as she believes she may be pregnant...





	All These Woes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MollokoPlus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollokoPlus/gifts).



> Hi!
> 
> This is my holiday gift to you, I hope it's alright. I wasn't really sure of what to do so I did my best, in the short time I left myself to do this in!
> 
> So here's my attempt at an angsty, gallya, rescue mission fic!!
> 
>    
> It all comes and goes.  
> It all comes and goes.  
> All these woes.
> 
> \- 'Woes', Tom Rosenthal.

 

“It’s odd for you, isn’t it, hanging off my arm instead of Peril’s?”

Seeing his smirk, Gaby rolled her eyes, and Solo continued, saying, “It’s like his eyes were burning into my back when we left, honey, I swear.”

He stopped talking then as they neared the casino’s entrance, and Gaby tugged on her dress and pulled out her most dazzling smile. Although her smile was nothing on Napoleon’s.

 

Flashing their invitations, they stepped inside, acting like the sickly sweet newly-weds they were supposed to be. But Gaby knew she was too stiff, too tense for the act to be truly believable. It clung too tightly to her skin and it was harder than she ever remembered it being, being partnered as a couple with Solo.

But, for her, it was all different now - different because she had kissed Illya over seven months ago, different as Illya was hers and a part of her heart now rested firmly with him, back at their hotel room only one mile away.

Different because she suspected she was carrying not just a part of his heart in return, but also his child.

 

As she walked by Solo’s side through the casino’s lobby, the hand that wasn’t clutching his arm moved to ghost over the rich fabric pulled tight over her stomach, curling and resting there for a moment.

Gaby pulled in a shallow breath and blinked, forcing her hand back to her side.

 

She could feel it was true, in her heart and her body, and she hadn’t bled for six weeks, and they’d been careless in bed before, and nausea had started creeping up on her in the mornings...

But no one else could know. Not until she was certain.The U.N.C.L.E medics hadn’t checked her recently, not enough to notice anything unusual, so she was safe for now. Her and Illya were still almost just like any other couple…

 

“Honey?” Solo said, pulling her closer, as he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yes, darling?”

“What would you like to drink?”

Gaby almost asked for wine, but it stuck in her throat, - “Water, if you would be so kind.”

Confusion flitted across his face for a moment, yet he still nodded, and helped her sit upon a bar stool before moving to collect their drinks, just as any doting husband would do.

 

Gaby surveyed the casino as best as she could, sitting tall in her seat, clocking the exits, guards, and all the high end players.

If only she was taller; Illya wouldn’t have any issues with this. Her thoughts drifted to him - if only he was here now, to stand and keep watch beside her, seeing everything that could threaten herself or the mission - or their baby...

Gaby could picture him fuming in their hotel room, tapping his finger on his thigh or endlessly pacing in agitation at their silent radios and slow progress, and it made her smile.

His pearl ring sat cool against her skin, clashing a little with her dress, and she curled the chain around her finger. Maybe he’d give her a real one someday, one without the tracker she could almost feel humming against her skin...

 

As Solo handed her a glass, Gaby looked down to her hand resting upon her stomach with Solo’s supposed engagement and weddings rings on and swallowed before smiling up at him once more.

She had to focus.

“Why don’t you play, darling. Come on.”

Arm in arm, they weaved through the tables away from the bar and Gaby, pushing all thoughts of the giant, Russian bear from her mind, scanned everyone they passed, searching for a briefcase that could be the one U.N.C.L.E needed.

 

What was in briefcase, neither of them had been told. All Waverly had said he could tell them was that the package was of the utmost importance and it was heavily related to T.H.R.U.S.H and their weapons scheme, a scheme U.N.C.L.E had been investigating and attempting to dismantle for months.

Under no circumstances could that package not be intercepted, Waverly had sternly told them, there for once being no glimmer in his eyes. That was why it was Solo with her, and not Illya.

His priorities could not be allowed to be compromised or clouded by Gaby’s presence. Not this time.

He’d scoffed at that, but everyone in that dingy safe house kitchen knew that he’d risk it all for her, damn the package and T.H.R.U.S.H.

 

Gaby tightened her hold on Solo’s arm, her heart beginning to crowd into her throat, and they continued moving to one of the more crowded tables.

“Darling?” Gaby said softly, pressing her lips together, and anchoring herself to Solo.

“What’s wrong, sugar? What can I do for ya?”

A feeling of nausea washed over Gaby and she swore and swayed, and Solo grabbed her waist in an attempt to steady her. He half-dragged her to one of the emptier side tables where other women were lounging, nursing their drinks with their friends.

“Go, I’ll be fine.”

“Shouldn’t I -”

“Go,” Gaby said again, waving Solo back to a table, and she sipped on some water, as she fought to remain still and upright, and not throw up.

 

This really wasn’t the best moment for this. Waverly was going to be concerned if Solo said anything - he didn’t like it when any of them were under the weather on a mission. Then he might start asking too many questions regarding her health and well being, and she didn’t want to lie to the man.

Gaby locked her jaw and clenched one of her fists beneath the table, and watched Solo begin to play before looking out for any sign of the package.

 

The next two hours passed with Solo spending more and more of U.N.C.L.E’s cash and winning just as much back, whilst Gaby watched and waited, and tried to will her stomach to settle.

It wasn’t even the morning, so she just had to account her sickness to her heightened nerves, and, though she would never admit it to anyone else, Illya not being by her side had had a habit of making her feel sick even before she had a goddamn baby growing inside her.

Her nerves grew as the minutes passed as this mission was supposed to be fast - they had been the closest agents to the scene, so responded quickly but that meant they shouldn’t have lingered this long, the risks of being recognised and compromised were too high. Yet here they were.

 

Then her eyes snagged on a man, roughly thirty feet away, a man who was tall and broad. He was stiffly carrying a briefcase and scanning the casino as if he was looking for something or someone in particular.

 

Gaby breathed deeply, placed down her glass, and stood, coughing lightly as she did so, and Solo looked towards her. Spotting her firm look, he twisted and saw the man, the briefcase, and began to come towards her, and Gaby said in his ear, “I’ll go behind, you in front.”

He laid a hand on her shoulder and once she nodded and smiled, he started to cut through the casino’s patrons ahead of their target, who was moving swiftly towards one of the small side doors on the far side of the casino.

After turning back around and politely inclining her head to the women next to her, Gaby moved to sweep behind the man and the package, flexing her fingers, and making sure Solo was in her sights. There wasn’t room for error now.

The pinch of her shoes and tightness of her dress made Gaby curse to herself as she kept up the pursuit whilst maintaining her facade, smiling at those she came close to knocking.

One of her arms was bent so as to half-cover her stomach, acting as a barrier to her body and meaning that her knife wasn’t too far from her grasp, as it was sheathed on the inside of her thigh, out of sight but accessible by the strategic slit in her dress.

 

Then a man shoved past Gaby and stalked quickly towards their target, and she stumbled and almost fell, so wasn’t close enough to intercept the briefcase as it was passed between them. Thankfully, Solo noticed, and started to close in.

Gaby knew it had to be now, and she started to run and push through those in front of her, and Solo did the same, and she saw him grabbing the package and starting to fight as chaos erupted around them.

And she was almost upon them, when a hand roughly closed around her upper arm, and Solo was looking at her when a soaking cloth was shoved against her mouth and the world tilted as the drug took effect. She tried to push away as the casino and Solo’s features started going blurry, but her legs were kicked out from under her and then she fell into darkness.

 

 

There was noise around her, like a heavy haze, pressing down.

Gaby shut her eyes tighter, and a throbbing began to take over her, and the noise did too as the voices grew louder.

She found she couldn’t move her legs, and there was something around her wrists, and the ground was cold against her cheek.

Gaby curled her body tighter, as if into herself, to protect her centre…

 

 

Still there was noise near her, and Gaby could almost imagine footsteps, all of which meant she was still alive.

She wanted to touch her belly, she wanted to check that her phantom baby was safe...

As she shifted, pain bolted up her leg, and a gasp past her lips, and she blinked, seeing nothing but black and stars of light. She moved, and there was a flash of pain again, but she had to move. She had to.

Her tongue was heavy, and Gaby breathed shakily, preparing herself.

 

 

Then, she opened her eyes, wide, the fog in her head still thick but fading enough for her training, for Illya’s training to rise up.

Illya.

She still wanted to touch her bump, where their baby will grow, wanted to pull at his ring, but her hands were still tied, tied round a post of some kind, above where her head was lying.

She twisted, and pain again flared, but she twisted to search for the door and there it was, no more than ten feet away.

She had no knife, and no shoes.

Illya hadn’t liked those shoes. It wasn't them that she missed. 

 

 

“Who do you work for? Who were you with?”

Their english was broken, and sharp. A kick to her ribs, and she screamed. The man - there was just one man - stepped on her ankle, hard, but she refused to open her mouth again.

“Tell me! We saw you enter with a man, another agent! Who were they?"

A punch.

"WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?”

She couldn’t remember how long it was before she passed out.

 

 

Another voice, and warm, gentle hands.

“Gaby, wake up, Gaby!”

They were moving her, and then the binds on her wrists loosened, fell away, and her hands were moved away from the post, at last.

They - the man, the same man as before - was speaking, but more distantly, like to someone else. Who though…

Gaby wrenched apart her eyelids when she was lifted and pain flew up from her legs and chest, and she almost cried out when her mouth was covered, and Illya said, “Shhh, quiet.”

And Gaby clung to Illya - _it was_ _Illya_ \- as they moved into a corridor and out of the darkness, and she heard the other man hiss, “You can kiss her later Illya, we have to go.”

It was Solo, and Gaby whimpered in relief and then in agony, as her leg jarred against the doorway they were following Solo through, and Illya tucked her closer to his chest, murmuring soft apologies into her hair as he started sprinting.

Down stairs and corridors they went, and others had started shouting after them, but Gaby could only focus on protecting her centre and breathing through the pain which rocked through her with every stride Illya took.

And finally they burst out into a street, and Solo was opening a battered car door and somehow Illya maneuvered the two of them into the back seat, and then Solo pulled away and started to speed somewhere safe.

 

“Illya,” Gaby whispered, and he took her left hand and kissed it, his eyes burning into her face as she lay with her head on his thighs, cradling her stomach.

“Illya,” she tried again, saying, “Why are you -”

“Cowboy came back with package, then we came to find you. Weren’t going to leave you.”

Tears gathered in her eyes and she covered them, unable to bear what was etched on his face as he spoke, and he held her as Solo kept driving. Time passed slowly to her as the pain and the tears refused to fade.

It was time to tell Illya what she suspected. She was going to tell him. She was going to tell the both of them.

 

Soon, they arrived at the safe house and her mind had cleared enough for her to really notice the shaking of Illya’s hands and the blood on both him and Solo’s clothing.

“Neither of you better be injured,” she said hoarsely, as they locked the door of the safe house behind them, and Illya said, “Is nothing.”

“What do you mean? What’s…”

“Look after you first.”

He was right, of course, the pain coming from all parts of her body couldn’t be ignored, though she did frown up at Illya as he placed her on the bed, kissing her forehead and kneeling down as Solo entered the bedroom with a first aid kit.

He was moving to leave, when Gaby said, “Stay.”

And so he did.

 

Both men helped remove what was left of her golden dress, and as her underwear did little to shield her from the night chill, Solo sat and held a rough blanket round her shoulers, rubbing circles into her back.

His jaw clenched, Illya began cleaning the worst of the scrapes on her leg, wiping away all the dirt too, and then muttered, “Ice, Cowboy.”

“Anything for you, Peril,” Solo declared playfully as he left to go to the kitchen’s freezer, but the tenseness of his shoulders gave his worry away.

“Where does it hurt?”

“Where do you hurt?”

Illya didn’t look at her when he murmured, “Gaby, please.”

She reached out, cupped his chin, though pain flared in her ribs as she leaned forwards, and said, “You need to take care of yourself too, Kuryakin.”

“I do not matter, I must take care of you first.”

“Illya…”

He looked up then - “You should not have been hurt, I knew Cowboy wouldn’t -”

“He focused on the package, Illya. He did his job.”

Gaby knew Illya understood she was right but he still glowered at her battered knees, and Gaby said, “You know, this is why we are no longer partners on missions Illya.”

He hummed, and Gaby glanced up to see Solo, hovering in the doorway.

She smiled at him, nodding, and he slowly smiled back.

 

Again, Solo held her, and Illya wrapped the ice in the towels Solo had picked up. He gave one to her, which she held against her aching ribs, and Illya cradled another against her ankle after he’d inspected and bandaged it.

“In time, it will fix,” he said, and Solo chipped in, saying, “But we’ll be getting the U.N.C.L.E. team to double check Peril’s fine work too.”

If any doctors started examining her, Gaby knew they would undercover her possible pregnancy, so now was going to be the time to tell them then.

Her hand, which was resting in her lap, started to shake again - “I have to tell you something. You too,” she said, catching Solo’s eye to still his move to get off the bed.

 

Illya opened his mouth to question her, so she rushed to say, “I’m pregnant. I think.”

And as she blinked away the stupid tears which just wouldn’t stop and stared at her lap, she saw Illya take her hand and bring it to his lips, and as he kissed it, she saw he was tearing up as well.

“Gaby,” he whispered, standing then to sit next to her, the bed sagging under the weight of all three agents.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Solo said, and he withdrew his arm so Illya could pull Gaby fully against him, wrapping his arms around her, and Illya said, “You should not have gone! What if -”

“I don’t know, I thought it would be alright,” she said, putting down her ice pack so both her hands were free to cover her face, “I didn’t - want to say anything. And I may be wrong, but -”

She paused, but as both men nodded and Illya kissed her cheek and touched where their baby would grow, Gaby thought for now there was little else to say.

 

All would be alright - it would have to be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Do I know anything about being pregnant? Absolutely not. Did I try to research it? Yes, but nowhere near enough. 
> 
> So, sorry about the lack of specifics and vagueness of it all. I loved the idea, couldn't execute it properly, but didn't let that stop me.


End file.
